


8 Times Damian Met Willow

by Wonderlandleighleigh



Category: Batman (Comics), Chuck (TV)
Genre: AU, F/M, Future Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-18
Updated: 2018-01-18
Packaged: 2019-03-06 14:45:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,050
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13413489
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wonderlandleighleigh/pseuds/Wonderlandleighleigh
Summary: One way or another, they keep meeting.





	8 Times Damian Met Willow

1.  
“I do not understand why we must suffer these America fools,” Damian grumbles in Arabic. 

His mother rests a hand lightly on the back of his neck. In her other hand is a black briefcase. “Patience, Habibi,” she mutters in English. And he hates being called that. He’s too old to be called that. He’s six now after all. “They are a means to an end.” 

A tall woman walks up. She carries herself with strength and dignity and is clearly all business. She’s blonde, and in no mood for games. 

Holding her hand is a small girl, Damian’s age, with dark, springy curls, and a worry to the way she walks. 

“Agent Walker,” Damian’s mother says. 

Agent Walker nods, holding up her own briefcase. “Talia.” 

“The League thanks you for your cooperation,” Talia says. 

“The CIA says if you ever pull a stunt like this again, we’re sending Colonel Casey to shoot you in the head,” Agent Walker replies. 

Talia grins just a little and then hands the briefcase to Damian. “You know what to do, Damian.” 

He nods, taking the briefcase and walking forward. 

Agent Walker hands her own briefcase to the little girl, who takes it, and moves forward cautiously. 

He watches her warily. The closer she gets, the more ways he thinks of to kill her. 

But there is something about the warm brown of her eyes that makes him not want to, and he doesn’t know what it is. 

She holds out the briefcase in silence, waiting for him to trade; trusting him not to betray the agreement their mothers have made. 

Damian takes the briefcase quickly, and tosses his own at the girl. She catches it, holding it tightly, and watching him walk away. 

His mother holds a hand out to him, and rests it on his shoulder as he gets closer. 

They walk away without looking back.

2\. 

“You are such a snob, Damian Wayne.” 

Damian is 11, and he greatly dislikes Maria Stark. 

She really is no better than he is when it comes right down to it. Her father, just like his, is a billionaire who can buy and sell anything, people included. 

But she calls him a snob because he summarily refuses to spend time with her and her trite little friends at the galas they both wind up being dragged to. 

There is one person, though, in Maria’s group of clueless whelps that catches his eye. 

Warm brown eyes, springy dark curls. She doesn’t say much of anything to anyone other than Maria, and even then, it’s rare that she opens her mouth, letting Maria keep the spotlight. 

“I hate these events,” Damian grumbles to the girl, who grins at him kindly. 

“They make me kinda nervous,” she admits. 

“They do not make me nervous,” he says. “They are just dull, and a waste of time. I could be doing so many more useful...so many more worthwhile things, and yet here I am. Pretending to care about whatever this is for.” 

“Whales, I think,” she tells him. 

Damian’s mouth twists. “I suppose that’s alright then. I still don’t want to be here.” 

“Why are you talking to him?” Maria snaps. “Come on, Willow.” She grabs the other girl’s hand and tugs her forward. 

Willow waves. “Bye.” 

Damian huffs out a “tt.” 

3.  
He’s not thrilled with the idea of boarding school, because it means time away from Gotham and his night job, and time away from his father and from Grayson and Pennyworth. 

It’s not what Damian wants, but his father thinks that it’d be good for him to be away after everything that’s happened; meet new people, experience new things. 

“Be a teenager,” his father says. “I think it’s important, Damian. If it truly doesn’t work out, if you really want to come home, we’ll revisit the decision. But I want you to try.” 

And so here he is, his few belongings are unpacked in his room, and he’s watching out of the corner of his eye as other kids rush past in the quad, laughing and shouting. He’s reading a book, but he’s also watching; observing. 

In truth, he’s trying to understand how “normal” children his age act. 

“I know you.” 

He looks up from his book, and there she is. 

Warm brown eyes, bouncy dark curls. She’s taller now at fifteen, of course. 

She’s…

There’s something…

Inexplicably his hands become vaguely sweaty and he feels as though the quad is ten degrees hotter than it was before she stepped up. 

“I...do you?” 

“Uh-huh.” She sits down at the picnic table with him, folding long legs underneath the seat. “You’re Damian Wayne. Remember? We met at that save the Whales thing years ago.” 

He blinks. “You’re Maria Stark’s friend.” 

“I am. But my name is Willow Bartowski.” 

“That...that is very nice,” he says, his voice mildly nervous. He curses himself silently. What is happening? She is only a girl.

“Thanks,” she smiles. “I think so, too. See you around?” 

She stands up, and Damian takes in everything about her. The paleness of her skin, and the way her hands shove into the pockets of her shorts. The faded scar on her left knee. The curve of her nose. 

“Yes,” he tells her. “I suppose you will.” 

“Great!” She beams at him and then heads off. “See ya!” 

Damian blinks to himself, his book forgotten. “What in the hell just happened?” 

4\. 

“Hi.” 

Waking up with her in his bed is like meeting her for the first time all over again. 

At just eighteen they are still both awkward teenagers, but Willow is awkward in the most amazing, most beautiful way, and Damian knows he’s never, ever going to get enough of this girl. 

Ever. 

His fingers play absently with her hair and he gives her a small grin. “Hello.” 

She rests her head on his shoulder, and closes her eyes and he pulls her close. 

Hello, indeed. 

5\. 

Drake finds a girl who miraculously can stand him enough to marry him, and of course, she’s somehow related to Damian’s freshly ex-girlfriend. 

They haven’t seen each other since he broke up with her after graduation, and Willow is keeping her distance, surrounding herself with her parents and brothers and friends. 

In the morning, after the wedding, Damian is getting on a plane to follow in the path of his father, training under the people who trained the original Batman, and there is no room in this quest for a girlfriend. No room for middle-of-the-night phone calls and lengthy update emails. 

They’d only break up anyways, so why put off the inevitable? 

He’ll never admit how much he misses her. Her laugh and her smile, her intelligence. The way her fingers fit so perfectly between his. 

There would be no point to that. 

He lets her have her distance, despite how beautiful she looks, but fate is strange, and they wind up on the balcony at the same time. 

“You don’t have to do this,” she says to him between heated kisses. “We could still-” 

“We can’t,” he says softly. Softer than he’s ever heard his own voice. “I’m sorry, Willow. But we can’t.” 

She kisses him one last time and gazes into his eyes. “Then I guess this is goodbye.” 

He watches her walk away and feels like his heart weighs six tons.

6\. 

“Wow. Talk about people I never thought I’d see again.” 

Willow Bartowski is hanging upside down in front of him. She’s supposed to be untying the binds that are holding him to the rather ornate chair his grandfather’s goons have tied him to, but she’s too busy looking smug. 

“Yes, yes, this is all very unexpected. Get me out of this thing.” 

“I’m gonna,” Willow grins. “But I really like seeing you tied up like this.” 

“Your sexual proclivities have certainly evolved since the last time we saw each other,” Damian grumbles. 

“Very funny,” Willow says, crossing her arms. 

“I’m told I have a rather acerbic wit,” Damian tells her. “Untie me.” 

“You’re the Batman,” Willow shrugs. “You untie you.” 

“Are you being petulant because I broke up with you four years ago?” Damian snaps. “Honestly, I thought you were more mature than that!” 

“Wow, and just for that, I am leaving you here,” Willow tells him. 

“Why are you in my grandfather’s lair anyways?” he asks, starting to work the ropes. 

“Because he kidnapped the president's son and daughter. I'm here for them. You're just an added bonus."

“A bonus. Is that what I am?” 

“Shut your face.” 

7\. 

He slumps back in the hotel bed, breathing hard, sweat covering his naked body. 

Willow does much the same, but with an added stretch. 

The hotel room in Nepal is beautiful, with an unbelievable view, but Damian only has eyes for the woman next to him.

“So...that was a thing that happened.” 

He blinks rapidly. “I...yes. It was.” 

She leans over and kisses him softly before rolling over and off the bed. 

“You’re leaving.” 

“I have to be in DC for a debriefing.” 

“If you ask me, that’s already happened.” 

Willow gives an amused snort. “Someone found a sense of humor in the last few years.” 

Damian sits up and watches her dress. “I’m glad you find me amusing.” 

She smiles and walks over after getting dressed, sitting down on the bed. “So. This was good. Fun.” 

“Yes, it was.” 

“See you around?” 

He blows out a breath and leans forward. “One thing, before you go.” 

Willow quirks an eyebrow. “What?” 

He leans in quickly before she has a chance to register what’s happening and kisses her. It’s soft and slow, but firm, like he damn well means it, because he does. 

When he pulls away and opens his eyes, he finds that hers are still shut. 

“That,” he tells her. 

“See…” Her eyes open slowly. “You see, you can’t do things like that and then expect me to just leave.” 

The smirk he gives her is self-satisfied, he knows. He leans back, stretching his arms above his head. 

“Or that,” she says. “God dammit, Wayne. You are such a tease.” 

He shrugs. Things feel different. This feels different. “You could stay here, you know.” 

“I could, but then a whole bunch of grumpy CIA agents would come looking for me,” Willow points out. “And one would probably be my mother, and that would be way too awkward.” 

He lowers his arms and rubs his face. “Yes. Yes, that would be very awkward. However, if you walk out that door, I’m not sure when I will see you next. And that bothers me.” 

She smiles and strokes his hair away from his eyes. “You’ll see me.” 

Damian lifts an eyebrow. “Oh?” 

Willow nods and leans in, kissing his jaw, before getting to her feet. “Uh-huh.” 

“I will hold you to that, Bartowski.” 

“Counting on it, Wayne,” she says, before slipping out.

8.  
He sees her sooner rather than later, at a joint Stark Industries/Wayne Enterprises event. 

It’s intensely fancy. Some sort of anniversary of the Wayne Foundation’s partnership with Stark’s own charity work. Women sashay around in ballgowns, and the men tug at their bowties the same way Damian is, as he sips his glass of tonic water and looks around the room.

She’s standing by a balcony door, holding her own glass, smoothing out her navy lace gown, and he’s both surprised and not surprised to see her.

What surprises him more is the swiftness with which his feet carry him to her side.

“I told you you’d see me,” she teases lightly, bumping her bare shoulder against his.

“You did,” he concedes with a grin. “I appreciate not being made to wait long.” 

Willow gazes at him softly and sets her drink down before adjusting his tie. “I bet you do.” 

Damian watches her softly, taking her hands in both of his. “Willow.” 

“You’d think after all these years going to these fancy parties you would have learned to straighten your tie,” she says with a grin. 

“Willow.” 

“What?” she asks, still smiling at him. 

He gazes at her, taking her in just like he always does. Warm brown eyes; soft bouncy curls. “Hello.” 

She beams at him, threading her fingers through his. “Hi.” 

END


End file.
